


Wheels Still In Spin

by ETraytin



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Honestly still figuring this one out, Rare Pairings, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8249618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: CJ turned down the offer of a lifetime to spend two years as an advisor in President Santos' White House. When she finally made her escape, she spent the next year putting her life back together and deciding what to do next. In modern politics, the closest anybody gets to an oracle is a really good pollster.





	1. Drenched To The Bone

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here's a Tumblr prompt that got so far away from me that this first chapter doesn't even reference the prompt at all. It just needed that much setup. Whoops. :D Imagine that Danny never came back again after Season 5, and what that might have changed for CJ at the end of the Bartlet administration, and you're ready to dive into this story.

In the White House, a smart and driven person can do more to change the world in one day than most people can do in a lifetime. That is the best and the worst part of working there. In her years at the White House, CJ Cregg had become the most powerful female politico in the country, first as a Press Secretary with unprecedented access and policy input, then Chief of Staff to President Bartlet during a time when that notable was not able to handle many of the finer details of running the country. The Administration had ruthlessly quashed any talk of a shadow president running things behind the scenes, but it was true that CJ had made far more unilateral decisions than Leo had ever needed to make. And then just when she'd been about to step away and leave, President Santos had pretty much commandeered her to the post of Special Advisor to the President. She hadn't wanted the job, had in fact been offered a very attractive position running the Hollis Foundation's world outreach program, but when President Santos had demanded she serve her country, she hadn't felt like she could say no. Above all other things, CJ was loyal. 

She'd given the Santos Administration two years, perhaps the longest two years of her life. She'd handled mostly foreign policy at first, advising the President on Kazakhstan while Josh got up to speed with the international politics that had never before been in his portfolio. It hadn't taken the new Chief of Staff too long to adapt to the Sit Room and the intricacies of foreign affairs; a lack of smarts had never been a problem for Josh. He'd actually had a much harder time with the rest of the Chief of Staff's job, the part where he had to supervise the President's days and ensure the smooth running of the White House staff. Privately CJ thought that the Santos White House would've been best served with Donna as Chief of Staff and Josh as Special Advisor for Kicking Congress Around And Getting Things Done, but nobody had asked her. Instead she'd stepped into the vacancy, gatekeeping for the President and refereeing the junior staffers as necessary, while keeping as low a profile as she could in order not to undermine Josh. When she wasn't doing that, CJ was also a mouthpiece for the administration, helping smooth things out for the Press Secretary and the Communications Department. Vice-President Baker was a good man, but the tumultuous convention and a difficult confirmation fight had left him chary of any public speaking that would court controversy, so CJ stepped in to speak when he wouldn't. 

CJ worked eighteen hour days and took few weekends, but it didn't matter very much because she had forgotten how to have any life outside of work. She didn't date, she had no hobbies, she spent very little leisure time with the people who had once been friends closer than family. When her father died, she insisted the funeral be held on a Friday so she would miss fewer days at the office. By the time she tendered her resignation in December of 2008, she could feel her sanity hanging by a very thin rope. President Santos asked her to stay on, but this time he did not push. She suspected that he could see the thin rope as well. 

After a very flattering goodbye party, CJ moved back to California, about as far as she could get from DC without leaving the continental United States. The job offers came in again, and this time she accepted a few of those previously stultifying board memberships, mostly because the money allowed her to take an entire year off in an attempt to locate and reconstruct the pieces of her life. There'd been a time when CJ had made vague plans to wait until she was settled in her career, then make time for a family, ideally with a nanny and housekeeper so she could do more of the fun stuff and less of the drudgery. At forty-five and with no romantic prospects, that ship had sailed long ago. Sometimes she wondered what her life might have been like if Danny had taken that editor's job, or if Simon had lived, or if Toby hadn't chosen to have children with his ex-wife and then abandon the administration. Very, very occasionally she wondered what might have happened if Nancy McNally hadn't been quite so high profile and cautious, or if Kate hadn't disappeared back into the web of the CIA after the Bartlet administration. She'd done a lot with her time in politics, but at the end it was hard to concentrate on the good she'd done and not the opportunities squandered, her past in the White House rather than her future in the empty stucco house in Santa Monica.

For the first month, she didn't do very much at all. She slept a great deal, something she'd thought her body had forgotten how to do, made pots of tea and weak coffee in her little french press, laid out on her balcony in a swimsuit despite the relatively chilly January weather. She gained five badly-needed pounds just by eating regular meals and began doing yoga after that, because it was California and it seemed like the thing to do. CJ had wondered upon leaving her job if she was going to need to schedule time for a nervous breakdown in private, but that never really happened. She saw a therapist a few times, because that also seemed the California thing to do, but for the most part her mind was a structured and organized place, her disappointments and anxieties filed away in their places rather than overwhelming her thoughts. She was okay. 

By the third month of her year off, CJ was physically back in good shape, and starting to get very bored with long naps and leisurely meals. She began trying her hand at various hobbies, wondering what she might be good at, starting at this late date. It quickly became apparent that she was not an artist, though it was a little bit fun to drink a bottle of wine and push paint around on a canvas for an evening. The resulting mess was more preschool than Picasso, and cleaning the brushes annoyed her. Gardening went much the same way; she liked the idea of fresh flowers and fruits in her yard much more than she liked the reality of weeding and watering. Oddly enough, decorating her home was a much more successful endeavor. She scoured the antique shops and art galleries of Los Angeles for things she liked, and while what she liked most was just being able to shop again with no Secret Service detail, she found all kinds of interesting and beautiful things to fill her empty home. It was surprising how many people in Los Angeles recognized her, but she supposed she did have a distinctive face and height. She let her hair go back to its natural auburn brown after four dark years. 

In month four, she took a whack at writing her memoirs. She quickly realized that she had never been the wordsmith in her job, and that hadn't changed now on her sabbatical. CJ's skills lay in reading what others wrote, or in extemporizing for a crowd. The blank page baffled and annoyed her; all the words came out stilted and wrong. There was no way to put the most intense, beautiful, agonizing ten years of her life onto a piece of paper. 

When month six rolled around, CJ gave up on cooking and baking, a little relieved to finally prove that she could cook, she just wasn't very good at it and didn't enjoy it. She liked takeout and she liked frozen foods, and that was her right as an American. Her doctor told her that if she wanted to eat like a college student for the rest of her life, she'd better step up the exercise, and also intimated that cardio workouts would stave off menopausal symptoms. She immediately joined a gym. Cardio-kickboxing raised her endorphin levels and basketball was just fun, especially when she proved to herself that under certain ideal circumstances, she could still dunk the ball. It was around this time that CJ first realized that her thin rope of sanity was no longer feeling anywhere near as attenuated. 

Seven months into her vacation, CJ was finally ready to begin repairing all the relationships she'd let fall apart in the past decade. She traveled to both her brothers for pleasant visits and had a semi-wild weekend in New York with Hogan, now in graduate school. She reconnected with a few college friends who'd remained in San Francisco, and picked up the threads of the professional network she'd maintained while working for EMILY's List. It was tiring and sometimes difficult work, but CJ was a people person at heart, and once she'd rebuilt herself, she found she didn't like being alone. She began to remember how to be a warm and friendly person, though she'd never again be as open and forthright as she'd once been. She was okay. 

She visited New Hampshire for the dedication of the Josiah Bartlet Presidential Library, a trip she'd viewed with trepidation for lots of reasons. She and Josh had butted heads frequently during her time as Chief of Staff and during the Santos Administration, and she hadn't even seen Toby in almost three years. Despite everything, she still thought of these people as her family, and she wasn't sure what she would do if she rejoined them now and there was no longer any connection. Some cowardly part of her thought it might be better to send her regrets and just assume that if she ever really needed them, they would be there, rather than going and facing the possibility of being wrong. In the end, the very existence of that cowardly part was enough to irritate her into going in spite of her own nerves. 

She'd had nothing to worry about. Toby was the first one to greet her, throwing his arms around her in a rare hug and murmuring welcome in her ear. He looked much better than he had the last time she'd seen him, years younger and considerably happier. He showed her pictures of the twins on their family vacation, and it was hard to believe how big they'd grown, or how much Huck looked like a tiny version of his father. Charlie was the same as always, a warm and steady rock with the best hug in the White House. He was starting his final year at Georgetown, and warned her that he was going to come knocking on her door for a job soon, because he was very tired of DC winters. She promised she'd help him find something, as soon as she found something real to do with herself. He'd laughed at that, then told her he was glad she'd taken a break, she looked much happier than she had a year ago. Will and Kate were both happy to see her too, with hugs and talk of what they'd been up to lately. They were friendly acquaintances, cousins of the family, but they fit in as well. CJ caught Kate looking at her sidelong a few times, but didn't acknowledge the looks. She was working her way through stages here. 

It was a little startling how much older President Bartlet looked now that he was letting his hair go white, but his steps were even and his voice was strong when he addressed his former staffers. Part of CJ would forever be assessing him like a Chief of Staff, making sure he was fit to face the day, but it wasn't her job anymore. He gave her a hug so fatherly, it almost brought tears to her eyes and told her that California obviously agreed with her, but that she still needed to come up to the farm sometime soon. She promised she would, and meant it. Josh, Donna and Sam arrived with the motorcade, and CJ worried again about awkwardness, but that was swept away when Josh picked her up and spun her around, telling her how great it was to see her again. She laughed and batted at his shoulders, then gave him a sisterly kiss on the forehead. Sam hugged her too, telling her in his sweet and earnest Sam fashion that they missed her, but he was glad she finally got to take a break. 

Donna's hug was a little more tentative but no less heartfelt, and it gave CJ a good opportunity to spot the ring on her finger. That called for exclamations and explanations, and a save-the-date invitation for a late-fall wedding. She'd kissed both Josh and Donna and wished them well, and shut aside the little pang of envy Those two had waited such a long time to get themselves sorted out, they deserved the happiness she could see on both their faces. Donna's face was a little fuller now, she noted, her complexion a little more glowy. CJ wondered if something had finally made Josh get off the dime and propose, but she would never ask. She didn't have to be their first call anymore, she could just be their friend. President Santos greeted her warmly as well and asked how she was liking her sabbatical. There was something unusual about the way he phrased it, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It didn't raise the old press-secretary hackles, so she let it go and just enjoyed the weekend for all it was worth. 

Nine months after leaving the White House, CJ went out for coffee with a woman she'd met in her kickboxing class. She hadn't realized how severely her social skills had atrophied until it took her til halfway through espresso and cheesecake to realize that this was supposed to be a date. Flustered, she'd retreated to the bathroom for an inappropriately long time, and by the time she returned, everything was awkward and it took all her vaunted political acumen to turn things back to simply friendly by the time the cake was finished. CJ spent days stewing about it afterwards, wondering if she were really so oblivious, wondering if she were ready to date again. Wondering what would happen if she actually did date a woman, after all her protests of heterosexuality to her friends. In fairness, when she'd said it, she hadn't kissed a woman since college, and she'd kissed plenty of men. Having occasional thoughts hadn't seemed worth all the hassle of trying to explain, not to mention the political fallout. She wasn't a politician anymore, at least not right now, but she still wasn't sure she was ready to be dating anybody.

Ten months into her sabbatical, as President Santos had termed it, CJ flew to Washington for Josh and Donna's wedding. Donna was showing by then, but the press had spent three years so enamored by his-and-hers matching Chiefs of Staff that there was no scandal to be had in a slightly tardy wedding. No wedding attended by two First Families could ever be described as small, but the simple blended-faith ceremony had been elegant and beautiful, the bride radiant and the groom well and truly ensorcelled. CJ sat with Carol and Margaret, all of them shedding happy tears for the occasion. The reception was considerably larger and attended by what seemed like all of Washington's political elite. 

CJ had wondered if being back in the political whirl would bring back all the exhaustion and frustration she'd felt a year ago, but instead it was familiar and oddly invigorating. She felt something like she'd been in training, getting herself back into top form. Good thing, too, as there were plenty of people who wanted to socialize with her. Before the night was over, Barry Goodwin, Greg Brock and two other people had asked her when she was planning to run for Congress. The idea had floored her at first; it hadn't been something she'd even considered. Politics had not been on her agenda for most of the past year, and even the fact that an election year was about to start had seemed far away and unreal. She'd laughed them off with a joke about California Democrats being very easy to find, but the thought stuck with her even after she'd flown back home. 

Eleven months into her self-imposed exile, CJ admitted to herself that she missed politics. She didn't miss the ridiculous pace she'd had in her last years at the White House, but she missed being able to make a difference. Basketball and cocktail parties were all well and good, and she didn't regret a moment of the past year, but the idea of spending another year like that made her feel itchy. It was time to get off the mat and start doing something again. But was she ready for a major campaign on her own behalf? It was a strange and intriguing idea, but she wasn't ready to commit just yet. She needed the lay of the land. Luckily, she knew a California pollster.


	2. Keep Your Eyes Wide

CJ knew that Joey Lucas kept an office in Orange County, her home territory, but she'd never been there before. Joey and her interpreter Kenny were nothing if not mobile, traveling the country to consult with politicians, focus groups, the White House, wherever her services were requested. It shouldn't have surprised CJ that the office was so small and unassuming, especially given real estate prices in Orange County. It was tucked onto the second floor of a bank building between an insurance agent and an attorney. There wasn't even a receptionist for the tiny lobby, just a blinking light that went on as soon as CJ entered the door. 

Kenny appeared within moments, giving her a friendly smile and talking in his “Kenny” voice, a few notes deeper and a touch more hesitant than his “Joey” voice. “Ms. Cregg, it's wonderful to see you again. Joey's just getting off a phone call, she'll be out in a minute. Would you like something to drink?” 

“No, I'm fine,” CJ assured him. “And you can call me CJ. We're a long way from the White House,” she joked. 

“Mmm,” Kenny smiled mysteriously, a response that CJ found baffling. There were a lot of baffling things about Kenny, really, not least of which was how he lived so much of his professional life completely ignored as long as he did his job well. She'd always found it startlingly easy to forget him entirely and focus only on Joey when they spoke. It also occurred to her to wonder about Joey using the telephone unassisted, but she knew there were special phones with keyboards and such. She'd never seen one, and idly wondered what it would look like. 

Before CJ could get too caught up in speculation, Joey herself appeared in the doorway with a warm and welcoming smile. “CJ,” she said and signed at the same time, (CJ knew almost no sign language, but she'd picked up finger spelling in Girl Scouts and it wasn't exactly hard to recognize her own name,) “it's good to see you again.” Kenny picked up her words for her, his voice rising into the Joey tone. “Come on back to my office.” 

Joey's office was an interesting room, half a dozen televisions and half a dozen computer screens all centered around a carefully organized desk. CJ caught sight of the special telephone and forced herself not to be distracted by it. A packed shelf of files stood along one wall, probably recent polls on any number of important political topics. Right now one computer was on and one television was showing the closed-captioned morning news, but Joey was obviously not on a war footing at the moment. “Please, have a seat,” Joey/Kenny invited, as Joey sat down behind her desk and Kenny took up his unobtrusive position in the corner. “How have you been enjoying your vacation?” 

“It's been great,” CJ told her, pulling her attention away from the movement of Joey's hands. Joey signed beautifully, expressively, to the point that even somebody who didn't know ASL could often catch the gist just from the expression on her face and the cast of her body. “Really restful, rejuvenating. Ten years is a long time to spend in the White House.” 

“A record for a high level staffer, even one in as many different positions as you had,” Joey agreed. “But I suspect you're not here to invite me to go sailing with you.” She smiled brilliantly, and CJ's brain hiccuped for a second. Under any other circumstances, she would've seen the words and the smile as flirtatious , but Kenny's voice was definitely throwing her off right now. 

“It sounds like fun, but I'm afraid not,” CJ agreed with a smile, adjusting her own body posture to ensure it was relaxed and businesslike. “If my vacation taught me anything, it's that I'm going to lose my mind if I take too much more of it. I'm looking into my other options.” 

“You must have a lot of those,” Joey observed. “I can't imagine many places would turn you down if you expressed any interest at all. You're on the board at InterConTel and Magnussen-Pierce right now, correct?” 

“Yes, but four board meetings a year still counts as vacation as far as I'm concerned,” CJ replied. “I mean, gratifying to my ego and all, but not really satisfying work. I've been considering getting back into politics,” she admitted, deciding to lay her cards out. 

“Really?” and again Joey's mysterious canary-eating-cat smile was at odds with Kenny's much more neutral delivery. “EMILY's List? Or another campaign?” 

“Not exactly,” CJ replied. “Or well, another campaign, but not as an operative. Barry Goodwin mentioned that Kyle Crevis is going to be making a senate bid this coming year, and that leaves his seat open. I don't live in the 30th, but I'm down in Santa Monica, that's very close, and I think I can avoid looking like a carpetbagger. Barry intimated that I could count on DNC support, but I don't want to step in it if there are factors I haven't considered. I'd like you to take the temperature and tell me if you think I should run.” 

“No,” Joey said in her own voice, still smiling. 

“No?” CJ repeated. “Are you already working for someone in that race?” 

“I'm not, but I don't need to take the temperature to give you an opinion,” Joey said through Kenny. “You definitely don't want to run in the California 30th, or any other California district.” 

CJ was nonplussed. “That was quick and decisive,” she observed, trying to gather her thoughts. “I assume you've got a reason for that assessment. You think I'm not qualified for a congressional seat?” she guessed. “Too tainted by past scandals or unpopular foreign policy?” 

“On the contrary,” Joey assured her, going so far as to interrupt herself by giving CJ a quick and reassuring pat on the hand. “You'd be a dream candidate to run in any Los Angeles district. Your name recognition is very high among likely voters, and your approval rating is nearly sixty percent, closer to eighty among Democrats. Voters see you as tough, well-spoken, intelligent and with an appealing mama wolf quality that they find trustworthy and reassuring.” 

“Huh.” For once, CJ's effortless eloquence had deserted her. “Not mama bear?” was all she could come up with. 

“Leader of the pack,” Joey explained with a silent laugh. “Your image is tied heavily into the Bartlet and Santos administrations, which is natural because you have never campaigned on your own or spoken on your own behalf before. At the same time, your experience speaks for itself, and with President Bartlet's post-administration approval so high, the MS Scandal barely taints you. You were the face and voice that promised the country that the President was fit to run the country and would continue to lead, and the fact that he was and he did casts you as reliable and trustworthy. Your name and face recognition are much lower among the politically unmotivated, but that is true for anyone. Unless you have a major scandal that ten years of continuous vetting never turned up, you're fantastically positioned.” 

“All those things sound like good things,” CJ pointed out slowly. “And it sounds a lot like you've been polling on me already, to have that kind of information at your fingertips.” Joey waggled her fingers and her eyebrows, but CJ wouldn't let herself be distracted. “If I'm not the guy, then why are you polling on me? And why are you saying no way?” 

“Because you don't want to run for Congress this year,” Joey repeated. “President Santos and Josh Lyman asked me to start polling three weeks ago, when Vice President Baker announced privately that he would be stepping down at the end of the first term.” 

That information was enough to distract CJ. “Baker's stepping down?” she repeated. “Is he sick?” 

“He's citing family reasons again,” Joey told her. “Rumor has it that life in the Naval Observatory with a Secret Service detail hasn't done anything good for his wife's mental health, or for their marriage. He may see the Vice-Presidency as an acceptable sacrifice. Regardless of his reasons, his name's not going to be on the ticket. Someone's name has to be.” 

“And quickly,” CJ agreed, caught up in imagining what chaos must have erupted in the White House from that announcement. “Santos' numbers are surprisingly good given how close the election was, but there are some strong Republican contenders this year...” She noticed Joey watching her expectantly, waiting for the penny to drop. It did. “President Santos and Josh Lyman asked you to poll on my favorables and unfavorables,” she asked very carefully, “just after Baker announced his resignation?” 

“I just compiled the results and delivered them two days ago,” Joey confirmed, and even through Kenny she seemed very self-satisfied. Really CJ could've told by her grin alone. “I know I'm close to telling tales out of school, but hypothetically speaking, there could be a very short list and you could hypothetically be at the very top of it. Drumming up support for a Congressional run right now would be a mistake. Give it two more weeks, and if they do choose someone else, I've got a bunch of polling data I'll give you a great discount on.” Joey's silent laugh was disarming and made CJ smile a little too, despite feeling as though she'd just been punched in the solar plexus. 

“But I've never been elected to anything in my life,” CJ managed, the first of about a thousand possible problems and objections. 

“That'll change,” Joey said, her own voice ringing with confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was Chapter 2, wherein I finally arrive at the topic of the prompt. Anonymous asked for: "cj/joey, cj is considering running for congress and she wants to get a feeling for what joey thinks of this [sorry it's a super niche ship]." 
> 
> I'd never even considered shipping CJ with Joey, even though I firmly believe that CJ's incredible personal charisma is such that she could be shipped with just about anybody. The language barrier/Kenny thing is a bit of an obstacle, but a lot can be done with looks and body language, right? In any case, I know the ship was subtle and understated here, but I hope you liked it anyway, Anon. I don't know at this point what I'm gong to do next with this little story. I could continue on with it, but I've got a couple things in the hopper right now and I don't know if there's enough interest. So hey, if you want to see more, weigh in and you'll make it more likely. :)


	3. If Your Time To You Is Worth Saving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Four of WIP Week! I'm not sure anybody even remembers this little number from the early weeks of my Fic-a-Day-Til-The-Election-That-Wouldn't-Die, but I've always toyed with the idea of taking it further than I did in the first two chapters. Plus this gives me a chance to play with Josh and CJ, two of my favorite characters to play against each other. Hope you enjoy, feedback is love!

CJ had left Joey's office with a whole list of things to think about, and she spent the next week doing so at length. The unkind might have characterized her as brooding, but she'd have pointed out that she still attended both her basketball game and kickboxing lesson and nobody can brood while kickboxing. Instead she was carefully studying all of her options, and if that sometimes included sitting at her patio table with a cup of coffee and gazing into nothing for long periods of time, so be it. 

The biggest and most obvious topic, of course, was the vice-presidency. It was a long shot as far as she was concerned, about as likely as her being chosen to run for Miss America, but the idea didn't scare her as much as it probably ought to. Matt Santos was a young and healthy man, and while she knew better than almost anyone how quickly the presidency could change hands, the overwhelming likelihood was that she would never have to step forward and sit in that big chair. And even if she were, well, she'd come awfully near that chair before and the country was no worse off for it. 

Far more daunting was what would come after Matt Santos' second term, assuming they won reelection. The second-term Vice President would be the putative leader of the party and expected to run for President. Actually getting nominated wasn't a sure thing, as Santos himself had proved, but she'd have to be out there. For most politicians this part would be the incentive, the idea that their turn would come after four years in second place, but CJ was a realist. A second term for Santos would mean sixteen straight years of Democratic control of the White House. It would take an act of God much bigger than one measly nuclear disaster to get another Democrat elected. The pragmatist in CJ suspected that was the biggest reason for her name to go to the top of a short list. Anyone with real ambitions of being president would be sitting that race out, waiting for the country to remember why they shouldn't vote for Republicans. Was she really up for the possibility of being expected to run in a campaign where she was certain to lose? 

Those questions really should've been more than enough to occupy her attention, but every so often CJ found her thoughts turning towards Joey herself. Maybe it was just a sign of her libido returning after a long hibernation, making her respond to even the least bit of flirtatious behavior. If not Joey, maybe CJ would be thinking about the barista at her Starbucks, or her kickboxing instructor. Maybe Joey wasn't actually flirting at all and CJ was misreading signals created by the several layers of communication interference between them. She realized she knew very little about Joey's personal life except that she had a young daughter whose shower present CJ had chipped in on, and that she wasn't sleeping with Kenny. (Ginger had confirmed this for the edification of the Sisterhood the last time Joey and Kenny had come to the Bartlet White House.) For all CJ knew, Joey had a boyfriend or husband tucked away somewhere and CJ was hallucinating attraction in her perimenopausal brain. All right, maybe that was worth a little brooding. 

Despite the holding pattern she'd promised to stay in for two weeks, CJ couldn't be idle too long. She didn't take any definitive steps towards starting a Congressional campaign, but she did start looking at office space and laying out some likely first planks for a platform. It was surprising but gratifying how quickly she could fall back into the campaign mindset, even seven years after her last whistle-stop tour. She also missed Josh's cleverness and Sam and Toby's eloquence while trying to plot her own course, but that was much less surprising. Maybe she could get Toby to do some consulting at least, he liked quixotic candidates with liberal ideas. 

Six days after her conversation with Joey, CJ threw in the towel at her computer partway through the morning and went to hack around in the garden a little. She had a vague idea of laying in some marigolds and some herb plants, creating a little kitchen garden that wouldn't require nearly so much effort as last year's ambitious plans, but first she needed to tame a mint plant that had taken over half the backyard. She was fairly sure she was going to wind up with a mojito the size of a bathtub. Even in the winter, it was easy to work up a sweat in this climate when doing any sort of physical labor. Taking a moment to lean on her spade, CJ pulled out a bottle of cool water and fiddled with the lid. 

“So I heard you were unretiring, but I didn't think it was to become a farmer.” The voice so close to her ear, familiar though it was, was startling enough to have CJ spinning in place and chucking her bottle at the intruder. Josh Lyman yelped as it made solid contact with his shoulder before bouncing off and rolling under the hydrangea bushes. 

“God, Josh! Warn a girl, would you?” she demanded, putting her hand over her racing heart. 

He gave her an injured puppy-dog look, rubbing his shoulder. “Sure, just blame the victim here. I should've listened to Donna when she warned me you were taking kickboxing.” 

“You should listen to Donna on a lot of things,” CJ reminded him, then finally moved in to hug him. “Long time no see, mi amour. Marriage looks good on you.” It really did, too. Though his hair was still as scruffy as ever, and turning grey to boot, some of the dark shadows and tense lines around his eyes had faded away. He was also walking more easily, which suggested his wife was forcing him to get some exercise. 

“Feels pretty good too,” he told her, tucking his face against her shoulder in that inimitable Josh-hug way. He stepped back to arm's length, taking her in. “And you're looking like a million bucks, under all the, you know, dirt and manure. Why do you smell like toothpaste?” She snorted and held up a viney strand of mint for him to sniff. His eyes widened. “That stuff comes from plants?” 

“You're a true son of the sod, Joshua.” CJ tossed the mint aside and brushed off her hands, heading towards the back door. “Come on in, I've got some iced tea. How's Donna doing?” 

“Getting really fat,” Josh reported gleefully as he followed her inside. “I had to buy new shoes for her before I could come on this trip because she can't tie her own laces by herself. Check this out.” He reached around for his ever-present backpack and dug out a folded strip of sonogram images. “This is the latest set, thirty weeks.” Most of the images were unrecognizable blobs to CJ's eyes, but a few of them were obviously baby-shaped. Josh pointed to one of them. “Look at that profile. That's the kind of profile they put on the side of mountains,” he insisted. 

CJ refrained from laughing at him, though it was difficult. “I think it, he, she has your nose,” she ventured. “Do you know what you're having?” 

“Boy,” Josh told her, his chest visibly puffing up in a way that once only beating up Congressmen would've done. “We're calling him Noah, after my dad.” 

“That's nice,” she told him approvingly, passing back the photos as she headed for the fridge. “You know, I hadn't heard that you were coming to town this week,” she mentioned, hauling iced tea and fresh lemons out of her half-empty icebox. “What brings you all the way across the country?” She had a pretty good idea, but there was no harm in playing a little coy. 

“You do, CJ,” he told her with a grin, flopping bonelessly into one of her kitchen chairs. This was, she realized, the first time any of her old friends had come to visit her here. It was funny how normal it seemed to have him sitting there anyway. “Your country needs you.” 

“I've heard that one before,” she groused. “Tell me another.” 

“Yeah, the President said to try that one, but I figured it would be a nonstarter,” he allowed, sitting forward to fold his hands on the table. “How about this one? It's time to get your ass up off the mat.”

She plunked a glass of iced tea down in front of him with slightly unnecessary force. “I can't imagine why they don't have you in charge of Human Resources.” 

“I am in charge of Human Resources, more or less,” he pointed out with an ingratiating grin. “I just delegate a lot of it. Don't you want to hear about the job?” 

“Is it the same job I had before?” she asked, sitting down opposite him. “Because I know more about that job than I even want to think about.” 

“Nope,” he replied coyly. “Totally different job description, not even in the same building. And it's a pretty cushy gig, actually. Make some speeches, do a little traveling, supervise a small staff. You get a big office and the housing's provided, so you can keep your place here if you want. Come on, sounds pretty good, doesn't it?” he wheedled, his eyes bright with suppressed mirth for the trick he was trying to pull. 

CJ took a sip of her tea. “So you want me to replace Baker on the ticket,” she said evenly, struggling not to laugh as Josh's mouth fell open in surprise. 

“You're a very good guesser,” he managed after a moment's pause. 

“I talked to Joey Lucas last week,” she admitted with a laugh, one that only increased at the look of comical outrage on his face. “I thinking about exploring a Congressional run and she told me to hold off a couple weeks in case something else came along. And I'm a very smart woman, Joshua. I'm a woman who knows things.” 

“So you'll do it?” he asked eagerly, ready to cut to the chase. 

“I never said that!” CJ insisted. “I have serious concerns. You know I've never run for anything before. This is a big thing to be starting with!” 

“Yeah, it'll be way more fun than running for Congress,” he pointed out with a laugh. “You've worked both kinds of campaigns before, would you rather be stumping around Southern California in a borrowed sedan or catching campaign rides on Air Force One?” 

She glared at him and he made at least an effort to be serious. “If you talked to Joey, you know what your favorables and unfavorables look like, right? Yes, the fact you've never been elected is a problem. Yes, some assholes don't like a woman in charge of things. Yes, you've got a little MS and a little Shareef on your record. But people know you, and they trust you, and they like you,” he insisted. “And it's not like we're appointing you. They'll have a chance to vote for you, and I'm betting they will. A California girl who hails from the midwest is a pretty good balance for a Texan on the ticket, too,” he added. 

“And the fact that I'm not married, have never been married, and haven't had a steady relationship in a decade?” she asked baldly. “That's not going to play very well.” 

“We'll spin it!” Josh told her with the blithe ease of the guy who tells other people to spin things. “You're so devoted to serving your country, you've given up blah blah blah. It worked for George Washington, didn't it?” 

CJ shook her head, but found herself grinning. “It's a huge change from anything I planned,” she finally said. “I'll think about it.” 

“Okay, but think about it in DC for a few days,” he insisted. “The President wants to talk to you about it, and Donna wants you at her baby shower. And believe me, it is much wiser to just give her what she wants these days.” He took a healthy slug of his tea. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Aren't you worried I'm going to tell her you called her fat?” 

“Nah, I tell her that to her face,” he replied, waving off the comment. “She thinks it's funny. I'm allowed to say the f-word until the precise second the baby emerges from her body, and then it's once again off-limits forever.” 

“That seems fair,” CJ decided. “Okay, I guess I can come out for a few days, for the baby shower if nothing else. And I'll talk to the President, though I don't know that anything he says is going to change my mind.” 

Josh gave her a full-on, two-dimple grin as he finished his tea. “Famous last words, Claudia Jean.”


End file.
